


Our Hearts are Strong (Where We Belong is Side by Side)

by bearlystanding



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, and keep their friends safe, and maybe acknowledge their feelings, two lesbians hang out and drink tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27029968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearlystanding/pseuds/bearlystanding
Summary: Watch isn't necessary with Caleb's dome but it does offer some reprieve for two souls who have much to talk about. Yasha and Beau sit in front of a fire and finally talk about the things they have needed to discuss.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Kudos: 106
Collections: Minipop





	Our Hearts are Strong (Where We Belong is Side by Side)

**Author's Note:**

> This was for the Cracklepop Town Minipop! First time I've written anything of length since college so I hope you enjoy this. There is a companion piece of artwork done by @Ageofthe_Dragon on twitter or Ageofthedragon on tumblr!

Autumn was once Beauregard’s least favorite season.

Autumn heralded a mass harvest of the vines, long hours spent out in the vineyards collecting grapes and preparing them to be turned into wine. Autumn conjured memories of days spent working far closer to her father than she ever wanted to be. Autumn hearkened echoes of his voice on the cool breezes and occasionally the ugly rearing of her own self-destructive habits. 

But this time as the leaves change and the air gets colder there’s less of her father and more of her new family. Jester was off with Veth crudely piling leaves up and jumping into the piles, delighting in the sweet simplicity of it. Caduceus was brewing tea and keeping the campsite warm with the fire. Fjord and Caleb were securing the perimeter of the camp to ensure there would be no surprises in the night. 

Yasha was tuning her harp, seated against the trunk of a great, old tree. It’s calming to listen to, even when Yasha doesn’t actively play a song Beau finds a measure of comfort in the occasional note dancing through the air around their camp. Her eyes are occasionally drawn upward toward the canopy high above them. Heights easily conquered by someone like her, should they need a lookout Beau could do that and a whole lot more. For now, she climbs the tree with ease and lounges in a thick branch that comfortably holds her weight while keeping an eye on her friends below.

The Nein were en-route to check out rumors of a dragon in the region. Its color was something that only a handful of scholars had heard about. Even with her own impressive knowledge and Caleb’s intellect there was little they could recall about this reclusive draconic species. On the one hand it’s incredibly riveting to think that even now there are undiscovered species of true dragons out there. On the other hand, Beau bristles with the knowledge that this is going to be an all-out fight or they would likely become toothpicks for an overgrown reptile.

Orange dragons lair in areas of vast freshwater reservoirs. They are amphibious and able to maneuver on land, water, and air with surprising ease. The most they can gather is that they tend to make rivers their home over swamps or lakes, using the muddy banks to create submerged lairs. Beau and the Nein have faced down all manner of threats but even this is something the monk finds herself nervous about. Information had always been her preferred weapon, dragons in of themselves are incredibly strong and resilient creatures but a rare coloration not seen or written about in centuries?

  
Beau only hoped they were prepared enough.

Her mind eventually drifts away from their goal and toward her present situation. Beau climbs down from where she opted to lounge as camp was set up and gets the plates from the party’s mess kits set up for dinner Per the norm, Caduceus cooked their meal this night and made a pot of tea that was pretty incredible if Beau had anything to say about it. She admired the simple care that Caduceus put into their meals while they were away from town. Even something as mundane as a mushroom stew tasted as though it was made with the utmost attention to detail when Caduceus cooked. They talked as they always do over their meals, reflecting on the days travels and the highlights. Jester mentions Yasha’s marked improvement in her mastery of the harp. It doesn’t escape the monk’s gaze, the way Yasha’s cheeks flush the faintest shade of pink, or the way Yasha’s lips quirk upward slightly as she thanks Jester. It makes Beau smile, she decided a long time ago that Yasha deserved happiness in whatever capacity Yasha would accept it in. Beau only hoped somewhere in the back of her mind that Yasha’s happiness would involve her somehow in their shared future.

“Hey Cad, can you keep the kettle on for watch? I’ll take the first tonight.” the words come unbidden as Beau watches her friends, her heart a little warmer than she expected it to be.

“Sure, any requests?” The Firbolg leans over toward the kettle and pours everyone a fresh cup of tea. 

“Uh-- anything that’ll help keep me awake through watch.” Beau forgets how much she enjoys the easy, calm laughter of Caduceus as he makes a new pot of tea.

“I think I’ve got just the thing. Made from leaves harvested from a gentleman that walked in the steps of Ioun, spry in his step in life apparently and his desire for knowledge was apparently insatiable.” 

She listens as Caduceus regails the tale of this follower of Ioun. It’s incredible to think of the stories that the Clay family wrote the epitaph to. For all the legendary things that Beau reflects on that the Nein had accomplished, Beau hoped that one day someone would write an epitaph as nicely as Caduceus did for this faceless gentleman that followed Ioun. She watches as Jester, Veth, and Yasha all listen with rapt attention as well. Even Caleb is interested in this story, though Fjord was busy ensuring they had enough firewood for the night. 

“I’ll take first watch with you Beau.” Yasha speaks after the story finishes. Yasha finds herself a seat next to Beau on an old weathered log they had pulled into camp as a makeshift bench. “I’m not really tired yet.”

“Sounds good, It’s been a while since our last watch hasn’t it?” Beau offers the slightest smile to Yasha which makes the other woman chuckle. 

“Yeah, not since the tree in Xhorhas.”

Beau tries to ignore the way Jester and Veth grin together like a pair of mischievous children spying on their parents. Beau tries to ignore the wink Jester gives her and Veth mouthing ‘kiss her!’ as the Nein retire to the dome. Beau tries not to notice the way Jester had conveniently laid down to keep an eye on them, or the way Fjord and Caleb laid to block the view and give the duo a measure of privacy. What Beau does make sure to notice is the way Yasha tries to suppress a laugh and the soft sound of air just barely escaping the Barbarian’s lips. What Beau commits to memory is the way Yasha’s eyes light up with her laughter (even when suppressed). She can feel her heart skip a beat and Beau tries to berate herself for acting like a dumb teenager with their first crush. But Yasha’s laughter is infectious, it makes Beau laugh albeit in a slightly flustered way.

“It’s like they’re expecting something to happen, right?” Beau tries to soothe her own rapidly frazzling nerves, trying to downplay their interloping friends’ gestures. 

“Maybe something will Beau.”

Beau’s reaction is instant. Yasha watches the way the monk straightens up and struggles to find her words, sputtering like a teenager floundering their way through their first forays into romance. It’s endearing, Yasha thinks. Yasha also thinks the way Beau’s skin reddens, and the way she tries to hide it is incredibly cute. Yasha reaches out toward the fire to carefully lay another log upon it and watches the fire roar to life with renewed vigor. Eventually Beau does find her voice and breaks the silence.

“You thirsty Yasha?” She watches the way Beau’s hands shake just slightly as she reaches for the mugs. Yasha wonders if Beau’s ever truly been loved by someone-- it would seem like she hadn’t with the way she reacts to some genuine acts of kindness. It’s strange to see a woman who hadn’t been given the slightest bit of true love in her life offer such acts of kindness to others’. 

“Yes, thank you Beau.” Yasha’s smile is unmistakable even in the soft orange glow of the fire. Her mismatched gaze settling on the monk’s frame as she pours the both of them tea and sits back down. Sometimes Yasha wonders what Molly would think of this motley crew now after all this time. Yasha thinks he’d be proud-- no, she knows he would be. Sometimes Yasha can hear his voice in the back of her mind, that laugh etched into her memory. He’d tell her he’s so proud that they’ve done so much good in the world and more importantly had fun along the way. 

She thinks Molly would have liked this place. All the color would have suited him greatly. She wonders if he’d have been proud of her now, wings regrown with brilliant feathers and hair beginning to grow back to its original silver. Molly hadn’t known her before her hair had darkened but he must have had some idea given the black gave way to white at the bottom. Eventually her mind drifts back to the present and her gaze settles on the treetops and then the stars beyond. From here Yasha could make out the constellations she learned as a child to navigate the wastes of Xhorhas. 

“It’s beautiful here, don’t you think? Molly would have liked it.” The Aasimar quietly questions. Beau follows her gaze skyward toward a hole in the canopy above them where the stars begin to peek from the dusky glow of sunset. “I’ve not seen colors like this on the trees before. It’s nothing like home.”   
  
Beau’s eyebrow arches and Yasha steals a glance back at the monk. Beau, for her part, might have been embarrassed to be caught staring but was far more entranced by the look of pure reverie on Yasha’s face. Sometimes Beau forgets that Yasha has never seen things that are all too common in the Empire. Forgets that Yasha came from Xhorhas, somewhere deep in a swampy-wasteland-y area if her memory serves. 

The monk stands up and stretches out eventually walking to the edge of where the firelight touches their camp and begins to sift through the leaves that litter the ground. Minutes pass as Beau tosses dry leaves into the fire until she stops and she finds her quarry. In her hands rests a brilliantly red maple leaf. Where she grew up maple trees were scattered amongst the trees within the forests around Kamordah around the mountain range. Maple leaves were a symbol of peace and protection, of love and-- Beau stops herself from thinking too much on the subject. 

Beau finds an acceptable quarry and sits beside Yasha once more, for a moment Beau hesitates but then turns toward Yasha with a leaf in hand. She offers the brilliant red leaf to the other woman but not without explanation. “You can preserve these-- like you do your flowers that is. Press ‘em between pages in a book-- I uh-- used to do that with my mother when I was a kid.”

Granted the leaves Beau pressed were the leaves from the grape vines, but these ones should be better than those. “It’s a maple leaf. The tree it comes from is right…” she pauses and then points to a large tree with branches reaching high enough that they became invisible in the night air. “...there. Some places tap them for sap, boil it and make a sweet tasting syrup out of it.”

Yasha takes the leaf and for a moment her fingertips brush Beau’s own-- Beau swears the contact lasts just a beat longer than it should and then it’s gone. Beau watches Yasha admire the leaf, gently running a finger along its surface. “It’s beautiful, I’ve not seen leaves this vividly red before.” The monk watches Yasha open a page in her book and press the leaf there. “Thank you Beau.”

They both allow silence to hang in the air for a while, sipping on tea and listening to the sounds of the creatures that call this forest home. Crickets chirp and an owl screeches shrilly off to the east. It’s comfortable here with Yasha, there’s no pressure or expectation on either of them to hold a conversation and sometimes it’s the most comfortable way for them to exist together. Yasha is aware of her own growing fondness for Beau just as Beau is aware of her own feelings that developed over time. They are acutely aware of the dance they share, tip-toeing on the edge of something more, something that Yasha finds herself yearning for. Feelings Beau wishes nothing more than to indulge even for just one night but maybe for a little longer than just one night. They reach for one another subconsciously now in times of stress and pain-- Molly’s grave, Jester’s fall, the Cathedral? Each time they had reached for one another and not anyone else. Even more in the happy times-- Yasha remembers their first flight.

It’s a day that she’ll never forget for the rest of her life. She remembers finding herself watching Beau more than her own surroundings at the time, the way her eyes lit up and the smile that bloomed into a full grin was forever ingrained in Yasha’s mind. If given the chance, Yasha would do it again and again-- as many times as she could to see that look on Beau’s face, after all happiness is best when it’s shared.

They’re both incredibly ineloquent around one another, Yasha is thankful that sometimes they don’t need words to express thoughts. Like now as a cold wind blows through camp and Beau clings to her mug of hot tea just that bit tighter and shrinks against herself, Yasha wastes no time removing her shawl and draping it around Beau’s shoulders. Even if it's a temporary reprieve, Yasha is happy to provide it. What Yasha doesn’t expect is when Beau shifts closer draping the shawl around the both of them as best as she can, nor does Yasha expect the unsure but kind expression on Beau’s face.

“Sometimes I think sleeves aren’t bullshit.” Beau murmurs into the chilly air. 

Saything that makes Beau laugh and the Barbarian can see the flush of color travel to Beau’s cheeks. It might be from the cold, but Yasha would like to think otherwise. Beau attempts to retort but maybe this time the Barbarian is right about sleeves. She flexes her hands a bit, rubbing them together and reaching out toward the campfire that continues to burn. They remain like that, tucked under Yasha’s shawl and enjoying the warmth of the fire and one another for some time. Occasionally their watch is dotted with idle commentary about the wildlife either of them can identify based on their cries in the darkened woods. 

There’s a point in time where the silence hangs heavy but for a moment. Yasha notices the soft yet intense expression that Beau directs toward the fire-- an expression Yasha knows to be the indicator that Beau’s deep in thought. Yasha shifts and leans forward toward the fire and watches the shapes within the flames. “Is there something on your mind Beau?” Yasha watches the shapes dance and flicker in the firelight. Sometimes she swears she sees Obann’s face, in other moments there is Zuala’s kind expression that takes shape and then dissipates.

“Yeah, kinda actually Yash.” Beau’s reply is as straightforward as Yasha has come to expect from Beau. “You ever feel something for someone and-- you know it’s different than a passing lust or crush?” Yasha finds herself watching Beau intently as she speaks. “But you know you have no right to feel those things for that person?”   
  
Yasha lets out a soft sigh, her eyes close for a moment. “Zuala was the only person I’ve had feelings for in the past. But I can understand what you’re saying, yes.” Yasha lets her hand rest on Beau’s shoulder, maybe it’s a show of support, maybe just hoping for something more.

“Yasha I--” Beau hesitates which Yasha is acutely aware that Beau doesn’t hesitate with anything. “I feel things for you-- things I know I have no right to feel, you’re mourning and I don’t want to put you in that weird position and I…” Beau cuts herself off and takes a breath. Yasha’s thumb rubs soothing circles into the monk’s shoulder. “I don’t want to be a rebound or a replacement, I’d never be Zuala and I’d never pretend or try.”

Beau’s honesty at times can be disarming and this time is no different for Yasha, as she takes a moment of pause to formulate a reply. She has been very aware of Beau’s flirtations from the day they first met. Yasha had assumed it simply was the way Beau tended to be with anyone she found attractive, and maybe it started that way but there’s certainly something more than lust in Beau’s expression now. Yasha is thankful that Beau hasn’t pulled away, hasn’t flinched backward or tried to walk away from this conversation. Beau knows words are difficult and not just for her.

“Beau?” Yasha can hear the anxious, shaky breaths that pass the monk’s lips as she waits for the barbarian’s reply. “Can I see your face?” It’s a simple enough request and Beau turns in her seat to face Yasha, who presses a hand to Beau’s cheek and runs her thumb along the skin. For all of the brusque exterior that Beau shows to the world, Yasha knows perhaps more than any of the Nein that Beau is softer than she would want anyone to know and far more easily hurt than Beau would like to admit. Yasha could only hope that her words would be enough to diffuse the anxieties brewing just beneath the surface of Beau’s exterior.

“I want you, Beau.” This part of her admission is easy. It’s easy to want someone and yearn for them, what’s more difficult is dealing with that want. “I want you in ways I do not think you could even imagine, in an intensity that sometimes frightens me. I do not think you know just how much I care for you so…” Yasha pauses, brows furrowing as she tries to find the rest of her words. She feels Beau’s hand reach upward to rest upon her own. Yasha smiles slightly at the contact, finding it reassuring. “...I would like to tell you now, but first there is something I believe I need to do before taking that step.”

Yasha allows a hint of a smile to rest on her lips. “Your concerns are valid. Which is why--” Yasha cuts herself off briefly. “Do you remember our conversation on Rumblecusp? When you asked me what I wanted and asked if I was staying?” Yasha watches Beau nod in reply. “I… I think I know what I want now.” For the first time in a while, Yasha finds herself nervous speaking honestly to anyone in the Nein.

“I think I would like to go home. I would like to find Zuala and I would like to say goodbye-- I have so many flowers to give her. Beau could I ask a favor of you?”

“What is it?”

“Could I ask you to come with me? I… I do not wish to face the ghosts in my past alone anymore.” 

Yasha watches Beau’s expression change from curious to shocked, feels the way she tenses before pulling away from Yasha’s hand. Yasha watches Beau’s brows furrow and gaze move away from the other her. Yasha thinks that Beau just might decline it. Doubt begins to burrow its way into the back of her mind; did she overstep? This was probably too much to ask-- how could you be so stu-- 

Beau’s voice breaks the line of thought that Yasha had begun to travel down. “I’m just kinda surprised you’d want me.”

The statement baffles Yasha. Of all the Nein after Molly’s passing, Beau had been the one that supported her the most. It felt natural to ask Beau, it felt right to ask for the support of someone who’d been there for her from the beginning. Yasha reaches for Beau’s hand taking it in her own and squeezing it gently. There’s an earnestness in Yasha’s voice that is disarming when she replies.

“Of course I’d want you Beau. I-- I always want you.” She pauses. “You’ve always been there to support me when I’ve needed it. You always reached out a hand and I’ve only recently begun to feel brave enough to take it.” Yasha takes a breath. “You’ve always supported me and if this is a favor too much to ask I understand.” 

It seems Frumpkin who had decided to sleep on the log beside them felt the shift in the mood. The cat climbs between them and begins to purr, he seems to always know when the Nein need a little support. The soft sound of the cat’s purr and the crackle of the fire filled the empty silence between the two of them for a moment as both of them took a moment to compose themselves. Yasha can see the corners of Beau’s lips twitch upward as the hint of a smile presents itself in the mottled light and shadow of the fire.

“If I’m the one you want to go with you then just name a time and I’ll go. The entire Nein would go to help you Yash, you know? We all want to support you in however we can.” Beau speaks slowly at first, trying to gather the racing thoughts in her mind. “You just gotta tell us and we’d even fight through the nine hells for you.”

Yasha moves closer to Beau as snow begins to fall steadily around them and the wind picks up, the cloak drawn more tightly between them.

“Of course-- I just--” Yasha looks like she’s fumbling for words, struggling to form the thought in her mind into a sentence but the reassuring squeeze of Beau’s hand in her own helps Yasha ground herself. “I just want her to meet you. I think she would have liked you a lot Beau.” 

“Yeah?” Beau laughs. “Could you tell me about her?”

Yasha nods, reaching over to the fire and laying a couple more logs on top of it, reveling in the feeling of the flames radiating the much needed warmth outward to them. It seems the season’s first snow would bless them tonight. Yasha tops off their mugs of tea and then looks toward the fire as memory takes over and she tells Beau about Zuala. Yasha reminisces on the tale of how they had met, how Zuala’s confident charm, her kindness and the gentle hand that Yasha had admired so much won her over when she was a younger woman. Yasha recounts tales of their midnight trysts, nights spent under the moon reveling in each other’s company and talking of their fantasies to run away from the tribe. 

“There was one time Zuala said we should run away, elope somewhere far away. But I-- I had a duty to the Skyspear and I think if I had run away I wouldn’t have met you all.”

Beau nods, listening attentively until their watch comes to a close, the two pressed against one another huddled together for warmth. Late into their watch they talked about their pasts, Beau recounting stories of Tori and the mostly illegal activities they would get up to. Beau regaling tales of her father and what he did when he found out. 

Mentally Yasha swears to ensure that man never hurt Beau again. If he didn’t recognize a blessing in Beau he didn’t deserve her.

Yasha doesn’t realize Beau has fallen asleep until the stories stop and the Barbarian is alone with her thoughts. Gently Yasha reached over and pulled Beau to her, carrying the monk into the dome and waking Caduceus and Caleb for the next watch. She didn’t fail to notice the curious glance Caleb gave her as he watched her set Beau down in her bedroll, shawl still draped over her shoulders. Yasha swore she saw Caduceus smile and then settled herself in her own bedroll.

That night they slept back to back, the touch providing a measure of comfort neither one knew they needed.


End file.
